


Out of the Wind

by MsLullabies



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Chapter 11: The Heiress, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mention of Bo-Katan Kryze, Missing Scene, Not Beta Read, Panic Attack, Parent-Child Relationship, a mix of the two, adrenaline crash, overuse of em dashes, with a soupçon of dissociation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:29:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27573827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsLullabies/pseuds/MsLullabies
Summary: Din walked along the coast until he came to a huddle of boulders large enough to have a significant lee. He tucked them into it and sat down on the sand.
Relationships: Baby Yoda (The Mandalorian TV) & Din Djarin
Comments: 21
Kudos: 189





	Out of the Wind

Din walked along the coast, the wind off the water chilling his wet clothes and armor, until he came to a huddle of boulders large enough to have a significant lee. He tucked them into it and sat down on the sand. His legs were steady beneath him, but the rising tightness in his throat made him think that steadiness might fail him soon. 

He felt scrambled, the events of the last hour racing around his mind in a cacophony - the sight of the baby’s bassinet disappearing into the depths of the beast, and then into the water, replaying before his open eyes; the ages-long wait between seeing the crushed and ruined pod, and seeing the child emerge from it unharmed, stretching out in his memory. His armor weighing him down, his helmet filling with water.

Only the distant, outermost orbit of Din’s attention remained in the present, and it caught on the baby. He began wriggling in Din’s arms as soon as Din sat down, grabbing the edge of Din's breastplate and trying to maneuver himself upright. To ease his way, Din shifted his arms, and only then noticed that they felt numb.

The baby pulled himself up, looking up at Din all the while, and as Din met his eyes, the cacophony in his mind suddenly came to a sharpened point:

 _Don't ever do that to me again!_

He bit his tongue to hold in the words, just as he had when the… the other supposed Mandalorian had handed the baby back to him. It wasn't the little one's fault. He had actually done very well - closed his cradle quick and hunkered down, just like they had practiced. If anything, Din was at fault. He had put them in that position, had let them enter a situation that had made them so vulnerable to betrayal.

The baby leaned in close, snuggling into Din's neck beneath the edge of his helm, and made his little cooing noise, over and over. It took Din a moment - it had been years, decades, since anyone had comforted him. But there was no mistaking that that was exactly what the baby was trying to do. He snuggled close, made soft sounds. He even pet at Din’s armored chest with one tiny hand, mimicking what Din had done for him occasionally. 

Din knew that the child's understanding exceeded appearances, and that he was growing more attuned to Din's moods. At the very least, he could clearly sense the depth of Din's upset. Din put his hand on the baby's back, felt him breathing steadily, and fumbled for something to say - to explain? To reassure?

 _I won’t let that happen again,_ was not something he could promise. _That scared the hell out of me,_ hardly seemed adequate. 

_I have never known fear or pain the way I do when you're in danger, when I can’t help you or get to you._ That was true, but it would hardly make either of them feel any better.

 _I love you._

That, he realized slowly and with growing horror, was also true. It was becoming more and more true as their days together went on, as just _this moment_ went on. He ached and burned with it, wanted to reshape the entire galaxy around this child's safety and well-being… and he was going to have to give this child up. Maybe soon or maybe years from now; and even if that wasn’t the case, he couldn't provide for a youngling who aged so differently from him, certainly not without the continuity of his tribe, of a covert, and Kryze had said -

The little one made his soothing noise again, louder and more urgent, and nuzzled all the harder against Din's neck, letting his ears fold back against Din's helmet and shoulder as he pressed as close as he could with every ounce of his baby-strength.

Din brought his focus to bear, forced himself to feel the child's back under his hand again, rising and falling with his breath, fragile little ribs pressing against his palm. He grabbed for control of his own breathing, and with the baby’s so close against him, he got a hold of it. He couldn't have a damn meltdown on this beach. But he could take a moment, out of the wind, and just breathe with his child. 

"I'm sorry," he said at last, and the words scraped their way through his swollen throat, carrying too much meaning with them.

The little one babbled once, quietly, in response. Din let himself hold on close a few seconds longer, and then drew the baby away from his neck and looked into his enormous eyes – calm, warm, and too perceptive for such a tiny being.

He got to his feet, shifting the baby into one arm and onto his hip. He adjusted his rifle on his shoulder, and turned his boots south, back toward town. He sighed.

"Come on, ad'ika. We’ll have to find another way to get you where you need to go."

\--

**Author's Note:**

>  **Din, sounding like he’s being tortured to death by stress:** ......I love you.  
>  **Yodito, swallowing a live starfish whole:** I know.


End file.
